


Succulent

by lastofromance



Category: One Piece
Genre: AU, Basically a trashy AU, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Humor, Zoro is Law's gardener, lawzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 19:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14700426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastofromance/pseuds/lastofromance
Summary: Summery fic of self-gratification and a sexy gardener.





	Succulent

Law was not getting any work done that day.

As it was, he was overworked, exhausted from long hours at the clinic, tedious and drawn-out medical procedures, keeping on call with the emergency room, and going over the results of various tests. His inbox always piled larger than his outbox said less about his work ethic and more about the sheer amount to keep up with. To the extent that even on a rare day off such as this, he found himself stuck in his home library, going over patient files.

It was a hot day, less and less rare as the last vestiges of spring slipped by into the summer months. But that wasn't what had him so distracted, nor the constant lack of sleep and accompanying deep circles framing his eyes.

As he had time and time again that afternoon, he let his gaze wander towards the window overlooking the backyard where the gardener was hard at work -- a man with strange but befitting grass-green hair and a physique most men would kill to have. Law's breath would catch every time he allowed himself the pleasure, looking upon the wealth of hard muscles stretched out taut, body wet and shining golden under the sun like a hot buffet of carnal delights. The white tee the man wore was nearly sheer as it soaked up the sweat of his hard labour, showing the outlines of toned deltoids and pulled tight over his massive, straining biceps. He pushed a heavy mower across the back garden after having finished trimming the arborvitae lining the fences with a clean, neat skill that made him more than worth what Law paid for his service. Not only was the man good at what he did, but he looked good -- damn good -- while doing it.

This was distraction at its finest. The gardener outside was drop dead gorgeous, leaving Law practically salivating with thoughts of running his fingers down that impressive chest. Trace over abdominals, grab hold of the curve of thick obliques as he pulled that sexy body against his own. As Law slipped his glasses off the bridge of his nose and rubbed at his eyes, he attempted to still the images at the backs of them -- what it would be like to grind his hard dick into the younger man as he bent over to tend to the soil of a potted succulent, putting on display a rather voluptuous, more _succulent_ ass through jeans slung so low, so tight, it should have been fucking illegal. No one person should be allowed to be so hot.

This made it impossible for Law to concentrate on much of anything else. After a while, he stopped entirely and decided to shut his laptop, lean back from his desk, and wait until the man finished for the afternoon. Palming his erection shamelessly where it strained in his black, drawstring joggers, he adjusted himself to where it lay a little more comfortably against his belly. On any other day, he would have been wearing nothing at all, but as he wasn’t entirely alone, some compromise had to be made.

Still, for long moments he swayed between action and inaction, tattooed fingers edging just beneath the head of his cock where it peeked from the top of his pants. He loosed a breathy sigh to the room, backdropped by the mechanical sound of the mower.

Logically, if he let his frustrations take the reins, he could get back to work a lot quicker. On the other hand, the thought of jerking himself off while watching his gardener work was a little crude and tasteless -- quite a bit below the standards Law held himself to. But the more he watched that hot body move, the more that relief became less deliberative and more a necessary evil.

The better option, he decided, was to take it elsewhere and at least not stare down the younger man like some kind of creep. But it was almost as if the gardener had different plans as he paused and stretched beneath the blazing hot sun, catching Law's eye the moment before his shirt was peeled over his head. All of those muscles, toned and impressive, rippling and chiseled and lickable and fucking perfect were revealed in their full glory, pretty much sealing Law's fate. 

_Fuck._

He watched as the subject of his attraction mopped the sweat from his brow with his shirt before tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans, wondering idly if there were ever a time in his life where his cock had ever been that hard. As it twitched in protest at his lack of action, either by his own hand or the lack of action taken out on the man outside who was seeming to practically beg for it, he dropped back into his chair and spun to get a better angle at the window. Once giving his palm a solid lick, tongue bathing it in the lubrication of his own saliva, he then dove his hand into his pants and began to work himself slowly, not teasingly, but not too rough at first. Moderate.

The exact pace he'd use to fuck the other man initially, his imagination fully along with him for this ride, but not really that necessary of a thing when so very little was left to it. But he fantasized away at the few unfilled blanks remaining, thought of the way the other man might moan -- how Law could think to make him moan -- pressed down into the cool grass as he peeled those ridiculously snug jeans off thick, muscular legs. Law thought of how the salt of the man's sweat would taste in the places where it pooled from the rivulets that intermittently dripped down his throat, resting in the dip of his collarbones. He wondered if he liked having his nipples bitten, licked, sucked -- if they were as delicious as they looked, dark pink and perked against his massive pectorals that Law could imagine grabbing up in handfuls.

He might protest weakly at these attentions -- not because he didn't like it, but because he liked it _too much_ , and _please, slow down_ , so sensitive, whimpering and skin going pink in embarrassment.... _fuck_. As these thoughts pushed Law to pick up the pace, allowed himself to become a little more zealous in the way he fisted the thick length of his cock, he wished that he knew what the man's voice was like -- they'd only spoken once on the phone, and Law scarcely remembered. It was probably sexy. It couldn't be un-sexy - not when attached to a face like that, stern and fierce whether he was hard at work or taking water breaks. Too serious, too wonderful of a challenge to pick apart in the way his brow might furrow in pleasure, perfect white teeth would bite into his lower lip -- cocksucking lips, really -- with just a token amount of shyness. Not too much, not so much as to grow boring, before throwing caution to the wind and fucking himself back on Law's cock like the slut that he probably was.

It was a damn good fantasy. 

And it worked for Law oh-too-well. So much that he missed the sound of the power cutting off the motor outside, or just couldn't give a fuck, as he swore out loud into the echoing silence of the room. Hips slid lower to the edge of the cushion until he fell into an inarticulate slouch, spine bowing, free hand grabbing at the smooth, cool leather of the chair's back above his head for leverage.

A name that escaped his recollection hung unsaid on the tip of his tongue as it slicked over his parted, dry lips. Pleasure trembled through all extremities, centering between parted thighs, closing in on a much-needed release. For moments, he found himself torn between attempting to press his senses as much as possible and go all in, or to thoroughly indulge and immerse himself in a long, drawn out state of self-surrender. 

Part of his fantasy was at odds with itself, torn as he both envisioned taking his time with the man, tracing every generous curve of his body and lick up the sweat beading on the thick muscles of his chest. On the other hand, he wanted it rough, hard, driven by strength and raw adrenaline. So many things to taste, to touch. The push and pull desires of so many things to dig his fingers into, soothing and abusing out as many moans as possible. Before he could indulge these thoughts any further, explore them to their fullest extent, the void called. And Law was hapless but to answer.

His narrow shoulders spasmed, head tilted back, hips lifting as the first spurt of hot cum hit his bare chest and formed a slick white line down his solar plexus. The second weaker, but no less impressive, fell on his clenched abdominals, and the third pooled in and around his navel. Each one made him gasp, made his body shudder, made him so much of an absolute mess. The kind of mess he would have preferred to make all over the gorgeous man outside. 

With a soft groan, Law pushed upwards on the head of his cock with his encircling fingers, shuddering as he milked the last few drops of his orgasm out, forming a sticky trail over his hips. As he finally fell back against his chair, he reveled in an oddly pleasant commingling of shame and afterglow. Enhanced with endorphins, the sound of his pulse jumping, and the low hum of the air conditioner’s quest to eradicate the stifling heat.

Warmed up from the inside, skin cooled on the outside, he felt really, really good.

Until he began to feel really, really gross.

Collecting himself up onto his feet, he gave into a languid stretch of muscle and sinew, a satisfying pop sounding in his lower back. A glimpse out the window showed the gardener busying himself at the shed, presumably putting things away in their proper place. Satisfied, and with a conscience not half as guilt-stricken as it really should have been, Law made his way towards the bathroom. The dark half moons beneath his eyes greeted him in the mirror as he grabbed a large wad of tissues to wipe himself down. God he felt tired -- slow, lethargic -- as he mopped all traces of his own semen from his stomach, chest, and around his cock. Regaining some sense of dignity and composure in the process.

With that, break time was officially over, and he was in desperate need of a drink. One thirst quenched to another.

Or not, as he was startled by the sound of knocking on the back door and paused mid-way to the kitchen. Through the glass, he could see the gardener peering back at him with his gorgeous face and dark eyes, and Law stepped over to answer. The perfection of timing was not lost on him as, had he been there minutes sooner, he would have been caught quite literally with his pants down.

"Did you need something?" he asked as he opened the door, not rudely nor amicably -- Law’s voice was as soft and noncommittal as his expression.

The man looked even better up close. It was a almost a shame that he’d at some point found a clean shirt for himself, but he still looked good in it. At close vantage, he smelled really nice -- masculine and provocative, with a kind of strength that must have carried him throughout his lifetime. The kind of strength Law wanted to just give in to, lean in to, dive in deeply and just luxuriate. He shivered lightly, imperceptible to the naked eye, a slight motion that stuttered through the base of his spine. If the other man were to introduce himself as ‘Adonis’, Law was certain no one would have doubted him for even a second. 

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but I noticed you were home and..." the man trailed instead, eyes going wide for a split second as they clung to Law’s half-naked body, giving him an appreciative once-over. A hard swallow, throat cleared, tempting Law to reach out and trace his fingertips over the other man's adam's apple to feel it shift beneath his bronze skin. But no. One does not simply go around manhandling the help, no matter how much they might want to.

“... And I figured I’d give this to you in person,” he concluded, voice steadier than his expression as he awkwardly thrust a slip of printed paper, an invoice, into Law’s hands.

If that was all, Law didn’t let the disappointment get to him -- hormones likewise kept in check. Curious, though, if the other man had been checking him out... just a little. It wasn't a phenomena unfamiliar to him from strangers, patients, and co-workers alike -- wandering eyes drinking in a thoroughly maintained appearance. Perhaps not quite the sex-on-legs standing in front of him, but he managed well enough.

The fact that he continued to oggle his gardener twice as hard, after getting off to him no less, did little to take the proud ruffle from his proverbial feathers. Maybe even peacocking, just a little -- with just a little extra of the 'cock' in that -- as he casually leaned against the doorframe, crossing his ankles in front of him. The paper was briefly glanced at, just enough give his memory a healthy jog to recall the man’s name. He’d do well to remember it should he need to moan it aloud later.

While Law wasn't easily fascinated or impressed by nature, and certainly not enthralled, there were exceptions to every rule. Caveats, so to speak. Such as sexy, green-haired gardeners with all of the allure of a glossy, mossy magazine centerfold named Roronoa Zoro. Law wanted to see him again. Soon -- as soon as possible.

Thus, an idea was born.

"Zoro-ya, is it?" Law folded the invoice, letting his arm fall to his side as his other hand rested on the sharp slope of his hip. "Is it at all possible that you could come back this Saturday? Preferably in the afternoon. I have a delivery of more succulents coming later this week and I’d like to get them transferred and mulched straightaway."

Which… wasn’t true, but he could _make it_ true, so long as Zoro replied --

"Sure, no problem. I’ll be back then," he said, leaning back on his heels and, giving Law one last long look, turned and walked off down the garden’s stone side path. Not one to miss an opportunity, Law allowed himself to lean past the door, getting a nice eyeful of hot gardener ass as it receded from view. The man had a nice gait, graceful, steady, a little sway to ample hips. Most things about Zoro seemed to be pretty ample, anyway, a mouthwatering delight to Law’s very fickle libido.

He smiled broadly to himself in a way that could hardly be considered warm, but completely and utterly indecent, and not a single fuck was given because no one else was there to see it. The temptation of giving the air a fist-pump, however, would have been pushing the lines of what one could get away with, even when completely alone.

Instead, he kept up the smile as he stepped back inside and returned to his library; a smile to one's self could mean anything. A private joke, an amusing thought, a good thought. Or a sexually explicit thought of a muscular body using its weight to impale itself upon Law’s hips, riding him hard into the throes of cloud nine. Maybe. 

Just maybe....

As he settled back down and reopened his laptop, he made a note amongst his burgeoning to-do list to order the plants he conveniently happened to need Zoro to plant for him. They may have just been an excuse pulled out of his ass, but hell, it was as good as any. While he was at it, an extra bag of bark mulch meant for landscaping. Perhaps a few seed packets for the herb garden; the quip of how he'd like to plant a few seeds in the gardener himself not at all lost on him.

That in mind, added as an afterthought, he needed to pick up a few extra boxes of tissues to distribute about his home sometime before the weekend arrived -- and Roronoa Zoro with it. 

He would most definitely be in need of them.

**Author's Note:**

> This is what occurs when you typo zolaw as 'zolawn' too many times and your brain is basically full of crack and your humor makes little to no sense: You get gardener Zoro and horny Law. You're welcome. I think.
> 
> Also, thank you so much to InfernalParadox for being a wonderful editor/beta/unicorn <3


End file.
